Petunia
by Ebony Foxfire
Summary: Lily's just become head girl, getting even more recognition for what her sister considers a gross abnormality.


Just some rambling from Petunia's point of view. She's annoyed at Lily for being head girl, but hey, what can you expect?

Petunia sighed angrily – actually more of a huff than a sigh – and looked out her bedroom window to the garden in full bloom with narrowed watery green eyes. It had happened _again_. It being her sister, Lily. Petunia silently cursed the daylilies and the roses, the orchids and the chrysanthemums, tears of bitter rage gathering behind her long, mascara-clumped eyelashes. Why did _she_ have to always get the attention? Her parents thought Lily was a special and a talented girl, but Petunia knew that she saw her younger sister as what she really was: a freak. 

Well, it wasn't as if she herself was unnoticed, she mused. Her achievements were always recognized and rewarded with the same vigor as her sisters'. It was just . . .Lily shouldn't be regarded with the same degree of love that she got. Lily was _unnatural_. And now, after years in that . . .that school of hers, she had been given yet another position of honor. What sort of title was 'head girl' anyway? A load of crap, if you wanted her humble opinion. 

Petunia heard a muffled thud and then peals of laughter emanating from downstairs. They were all celebrating with cake and a film, without her. Well, as usual she had been asked to join them, but of course she had declined! Whenever her sister was home, she always did her best to avoid her. Petunia felt as if her sister were a leper or had some ungodly plague that might be contagious. Whenever Lily flashed her a smile or asked her to come with her to the cinema, Petunia made absolutely sure to regard her with the same degree of contempt she would something unpleasantly squishy under her shoe. She knew she was better, more human, than Lily.

Petunia impetuously leapt off of her bed and ran to the ornate floor-length mirror that stood propped against a wall of her room. She stripped off her blouse and admired herself. She was prettier than drab little Lily, too! She had a slender waist and high, firm breasts, shapely legs and an overall petite figure. She turned her head from side to side as she critiqued her flawless complexion and her tiny features. She brushed her straight blonde hair out of her eyes. Her eyes. There Lily always attracted attention. Her stupid, deviant eyes, such a brilliant green that they took away from all the rest of her flaws. When she smiled that pretty little smile of hers, those eyes lit up, captivating all around her. No one ever noticed that Lily was thicker in the waist than she was, or had a rounder bottom. Petunia looked at her own, pale green-blue eyes, the color of stagnant water. She furrowed her neatly groomed brows and stretched out her long (Lily sometimes teased 'giraffe-like') neck. Vernon would be by soon. He appreciated her, and he understood her sister's oddity. 

She pulled back on her frilly blouse and smoothed her skirt as she sat again on her pink-quilted bed. Nearly everything in her room was pink, as, Petunia fervently believed, was only proper for a young girl. She plucked at her ruffly pale pink curtains, looking around at her carnation-hued wallpaper with the flowery border. She reached over to her vanity table (pink, of course) and with her long fingers daintily picked up a tube of (pink) lipstick. Deftly applying it, she glanced at the clock; Vernon should be there in fifteen minutes if he was prompt, which he always was. Lily's favorite color was blue. Not only a boy's color, but a deep, dark, blacky-blue. Preferably, Petunia shivered, with silver stars, like the mythical cloak of (another shiver racked her body) Merlin. 

Hastily pushing any thoughts of Lily out of her mind, she concentrated on happier things, Like Vernon, her steady boyfriend. He was the head of the rugby team at Smeltings, which was only proper. What cared if he made poor grades? She dreamily thought of his muscular shoulders and neck. His tall stature, and the thin mustache he was trying to grow. He carried himself like a man should, shoulders back, chest forward, black eyes narrow. He would own a company one day, and be a powerful businessman, a proper man, who wore suits and ties to work everyday and carried a large leather briefcase. She, heaven will it, would still be with him, then, waiting for him at their cozy little home, caring for a bouncing baby boy. Vernon had always wanted a boy. A fine big boy, to carry on the rugby tradition. Petunia leaned back against her pillows. What a perfect boyfriend.

Lily also had a boyfriend.

Petunia sat up as though she had been shocked. Where had that thought come from? But now the seed was planted in her mind, thoughts along that tangent kept flashing through her brain like lightning. He was from _her_ school, barely human. He was medium height and much scrawnier than her Vernon. But then, she thought proudly, nearly everyone was. He had horrible, messy black hair that always seemed to be flopping in his large brown eyes. He even had a nasty, common name. George or John, James, yes, James, that was it. Nasty, common, monosyllabic name. She had only met him once, but once was one too many times for her. His ears stuck out, too. And he had glasses. Probably got stuffed in his locker every day. Or broom cupboards (shudder) or whatever they had _there_. 

A high, shrieky cackle floated up the stairs. "I'll get you my pretty," shouted the same voice, "And your little dog too!" Petunia buried her head under her pillow. Lily loved to watch 'The Wizard of Oz'. She loved to comment to her parents about how her complexion was going a bit green nowadays (Petunia clenched her teeth) or how if only Dorothy had known how to perform a (Petunia let out a muffled groan) flame-retardant charm. This was all, as always, much to the delight of their parents. Daisy and William Evans, for all they were kind, were blind to what Petunia knew was plain as day.

As another cackle reverberated though her head, she let out a scream, muffled by her pillow. She threw off the pillow and staled over to the door. Poking her head out she bellowed, "Turn that damn thing down, will you?!"

"Anything for you, Pet, sweetling!" Lily's sweet, musical voice held a hint of sarcasm. It always did.

"Don't call me 'Pet'!" Petunia screamed, hurting her throat. She turned back into her room and slammed the door shut with a smash that knocked over a picture that had been resting on her nightstand. Muttering curses under her breath, she bent down to pick up the photograph in its little heart shaped frame. Turning it over in her hands, she saw a black and white photo of two young girls playing by the seaside. They were standing by a sandcastle nearly as large as them, holding hands, and beaming with pride at their creation. One of the little girls (perhaps four?) was thin as a stick with light blond hair sticking out in odd directions, a little purple bathing suit covering her gaunt body. The other, slightly younger, was a pudgy little girl with curly red ringlets and the sweetest smile you'd ever see.

Petunia and Lily, ages three and four, playing together at the seaside. Read the back of the photo, when Petunia removed it from the frame.

Petunia looked at the little girls and their smiles, and then at each chubby hand gripping the other as though it would never let go. 

She gently placed the empty frame back on the bedside table and took the picture in both of her hands. 

She ripped it in two and dropped it carelessly in the wastebasket.

What did you think? Please R/R!


End file.
